


Fate is a Funny Little Thing

by Star4545



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Ebb raises Simon, Ebeneza "Ebb" Petty Lives, F/F, M/M, Swordfighting, The Mage (Simon Snow) is an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star4545/pseuds/Star4545
Summary: Alternate universe where the Coven finds Simon and gives him to Ebb to raise.
Relationships: Ebeneza "Ebb" Petty/Fiona Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	Fate is a Funny Little Thing

Ebb

It was a rainy day in June when the Coven appeared at my door. I thought for a minute they were about to take me. I thought they somehow found out about my fraternizing with Nicky on Christmas. There were four men, all dressed in black suits, umbrellas hanging over them. They looked like mobsters. In the arms of Malcolm Grimm was a small baby wrapped in a baby blue blanket.

"Here's the baby," he says, handing the bundle of blankets to me.

I look down at the boy; his eyes are shut. He looks relatively peaceful in my arms.

"Name's Simon Snow. Supposed to be a powerful mage, that one."

I nod, stroking a finger down the side of his face. He doesn't seem fazed by the movement.

Malcolm hands me a lightweight plastic bag. "Here's his magical instrument and birth certificate. The Coven thanks you for your service to the World of Mages."

I was shocked when I got the call saying there was a magical baby and they needed me to care for it. They said I was the most qualified, except I never cared for a baby, only animals. I barely even take care of myself. Fiona constantly tells me to do so, but I have so many other things that rely on my care. Now I have this little kitten.

I close the door when the men start to leave. I place the bag on the kitchen counter and look down again at the baby. "Hello Simon, I'm your mummy. Not your actual one, but I hope to act as such."

Fiona chuckles from her place at the table. I had almost forgotten she was there. She comes to look at the baby, standing behind me.

"He's almost as cute as Basilton was at that age," Fiona says.

"How do I do this?" I ask her.

"Just do as I told you. It can be any harder than raising goats. You have everything you need to give him a good life. You'll be a great mother, Ebb."

"You think so?” I look at her.

She smiles at me. "Of course." Fiona kisses my cheek. "And I'll be here to help you."

"I love you," I say, tearing my eyes away from the living being in my arms.

"I love you too, Ebb." Fiona sits back down at the table.

I put the baby in his cot that Fiona helped me build. I cast “ **I heard someone crying** ” to alert me of his crying. I go back into the main room and sit.

“I’m a mother,” I say in disbelief.

“Yes, you are.”

“Fuck me.”

I can hear the clock ticking and the rain pattering on the roof. I wait in anticipation for the moment the cries overcome the ticking. It’s painfully quiet.

I take a sip from a mug of cold tea.

“ **Some like it hot** ,” I cast, moving my hands away so they don’t burn on the now hot mug.

I want to chat with Fiona, but my mind is on baby, baby, baby, Simon. I’ve always loved that name. Fiona reaches across the table to grab my hand. She is playing with my fingers.

“Do you know who the parents are?” Fiona asks.

“The Coven said Davy Llellewyn and Lucy Salisbury. Do you know them?”

Fiona shakes her head.

“Me either. I don’t understand why they would give up a perfectly good baby.” I start to get teary eyed thinking of another reality where Simon grows up alone and unloved. I vow to never be the distant parent.

“Do you reckon you’ll tell him one day down the line?”

I furrow my eyebrows.

“That you aren’t his birth mother?” Fiona explains.

“Oh, well, I doubt he’ll ever come in contact with his real parents. I don’t see a need to. But if he wants to know names, I’ll give them.”

“The World of Mages is a small place. I ran into some guy from our year in that Mage bar in London,” Fiona shrugs. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Ebb. I’d never look at him like that.”

“Wouldn’t ever think you would.”

Fiona sighs, ready to change the subject. “Do you think Basiliton and Simon will be friends?”

I give her a wicked grin. “We’ll make sure of it. I think it would be nice for them to grow up together. Basil will have a friend that doesn’t live in a mansion and vice versa. Oh, Fiona, they could fall in love.”

“You are such a sap.”

“You love it.”

The sounds of a baby crying are echoing throughout the cottage. I quickly get up and make my way to Simon’s room. I walk up to the cot, picking Simon up in my arms. For the first time, I see his bright blue eyes. I think I fall in love.

“ **Hush little baby**.”

His cries subside. I undo his swaddle and check to see if he needs a new nappy. It’s clean, so I re-swaddle him and bring him with me to the kitchen to make him a bottle.

“See you are a natural,” Fiona says. “You probably won’t even need me here this week.”

“I’ll definitely need you this week.”

I put the lukewarm bottle in his mouth and he eagerly suck on it. I kiss the top of his head, inhaling the sweet newborn baby smell. I hear the click of a camera and look over to Fiona.

“You’ll thank me later.” She comes closer to me. “Ebb look at me and smile. Show the baby.”

I pose for a picture. Simon stares right at me and I think that it is impossible for me to love anything more than I do this little guy.

“You two are adorable,” Fiona gushes.

“Are you this soft around Basilton?”

“Merlin no. He can’t see that I have weakness.”

I focus on the baby sucking on the bottle and take it away when he finishes, burping him afterwards. Every so often, I hear the click of the camera.

By Halloween, little Simon and I have become well acquainted. He started sleeping through the night and our relationship improved tenfold.

I walk into his room on a cold foggy Friday morning. The air outside is crisp; it floats into the cottage through an open window. I decorated Simon’s navy walls with pumpkin decals. The exterior of the cottage is decorated as well. When I get to his cot, he smiles up at me; his smile is bright and warm like the magic that is going to start developing. I pick him up and start kissing all over his face. He giggles at me.

“Good morning, little ‘un. Today is a special day,” I say, placing him back down so I can grab his costume. It’s a little goat onesie; Fiona found it in London and picked it up for me. “You are going to meet your new best friend!”

He looks at me with wide eyes, bringing his hand to his mouth. I check his nappy and dress him up.

After I finish dressing him, I bring him into the main room, setting him down in his play area. I sit down next to him, waiting for Fiona to get here with Basilton. I reach into a small basket full of toys and hand him his favorite stuffy. He looks overjoyed. He shakes it, enjoying the rattling sound coming from the small white rabbit.

There is a knock on the door, I pick Simon up in my arms. He holds firmly to his toy as I carry him. I open the door. Fiona is standing there in a vampire costume, pushing a pram.

“Where’s your costume, Ebb?” Fiona asks, kissing me on the cheek. She kisses Simon’s head as well.

“I am wearing a costume. I’m dressed as a mother who doesn’t go back to work next week.”

Fiona chuckles, pushing the pram into the cottage. She pushes back the overhead, so I can see that little Basilton is dressed as a purple and green t-rex. Fiona picks him up. He points to Fiona and loudly exclaims, “Ona.”

“Basilton, do you remember Ebb?” Fiona asks, her voice is stern, the complete opposite of how she talks to Simon.

“Ebb,” he says, pointing at me.

Simon tries to copy the words, but it ends up in baby babble.

“Simon, this is your new friend Basilton.” I say softly.

Simon looks wide eyed at the new baby in the house. Basilton stares back at Simon. I walk towards Simon’s play area and sit him down. Fiona does the same with Basilton, then goes back to the pram to get his toys and food.

Fiona gives Basilton his own stuffy of a rabbit. Fiona had given me the one for Simon as we thought it would be cute for them to have a matching toy. The only difference is Simon’s is white and Basilton’s is blue. We sit on the ground across from them. Fiona brings her hands to her eyes and starts to play peek a boo, causing Basilton to giggle and Simon to look confused.

\--

That Christmas I go to my childhood home as per usual. The inside of the house is warm from the fireplace. My face is red from alcohol. Everyone is pouring themselves over Simon. My mother teeters between happiness for a grandson and worry about my affairs with the Coven. I wait anxiously for the time when I talk to Nicky. I have so much to catch him up on… or well the moon on. I won’t talk directly to him. I shouldn’t even be seeing him in the first place. Fiona got irritated that I do; she says it’s time to give him up, but she’s never lost a family member like I lost him.

I step outside into the crisp winter air after Simon’s been put to bed. I have a spell on him, so I’ll be able to hear if he gets fussy. I catch a quick glimpse at Nicky. He looks awful. I think every year he looks worse and worse. I walk over to the gate, sitting down and resting my back against it so I don’t look at him. My mother’s cat has found her way into my lap.

“ **Nothing to see here.** ” I cast at him.

I hear him sigh.

“Got myself a kitten.”

I scan the backyard, relishing at the look of the old willow tree. Nicky and I used to climb up it. The birds would fly and sing to me while Nicky would carve drawings into the tree bark. At the very top there is an inscription of the quote from the Watford gates.

“… a child I mean, not a cat.”

I would love to see Nicky’s face. He is probably surprised. I never thought I would have children, mostly because I knew I would never want to be with a man.

“He was given to me by the Coven. They told me to protect him. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I love him so much, more than anything. I thought Watford was my greatest love. Maybe it was just a placeholder.”

The stars are out tonight. The moon is shrouded by clouds, but I know the cycles well enough to know that it’s full.

“Fiona is doing well. She’s as beautiful as ever and sharp as a knife. She has a cute little nephew. She takes care of him often. It’s weird endearing to see her with children.”

I wish he could talk with me, but this is enough of a risk as it is. I start to cry like I do every Christmas.

“I wish things were different. I wish…” I don’t want to speak directly to him. My brain stalls to make a metaphor. “I wish the stars and the moon could meet. I wish the leaves of the willow could meet the branches.” I hope he knows what I mean. “I wish the kitten could meet the dog. I wish fate gave the dog a different path”

“I took a break from teaching this term, but I’ll be back in the spring. I can’t wait. I miss the children so much. This term has made miss it. I miss marking exams. What’s that about?” I laugh at myself. I hear Nicky chuckle too.

The moment is ruined by the sadistic cry of a baby. I pick the cat up and place her back on the ground.

“My baby is crying,” I say. “Sorry to cut this short.” I mean it, I do.

I turn my back to get one good look at him. His hair is greasy and his eyes tired. I scan for a semblance of the Nicky I knew, but I cannot find one.

“Having a child has made me soft for the old days,” I say directly to him.

I want to reach out and grab his hand over the fence. I put my head against the wood fence, and he does the same. I cannot feel his forehead against mine.

“You’ll be a great mum,” he says. It seems that me being a mother has made him soft too.

We break the rules, just that night. Over the next years, we never break them again. The adrenaline of doing that one stops us.

\--

His face haunts my dreams, and his voice reassures me on the darkest days that I can do it, especially on days when the warning alarms are ringing and have been ringing for the past ten minutes. It isn’t often I hear the warning alarms ring at Watford. They sound like the alarm on a bullhorn and the voice of Natasha Grimm-Pitch says every minute: “There has been a break-in to the Watford grounds. Go to your designated emergency room.”

The last time I heard them was when numpties tried to find Simon when he was a baby. The poor lass was scared to his bones by the loud sounds that perpetrated the cottage.

Simon, who I finally got to concentrate on his work, shares the same look in his eyes from when he heard the alarm last. His eyes are wide, tears prick in the corners, and his eyebrows are furrowed together. He immediately puts his hands over his ears; Simon’s been afraid of loud noises lately. I don’t know what has caused him to be so skittish but it’s sadly so. I worry for a moment that he remembers the battle of the numpties (as Fiona deemed it), but he was only a little over a year.

I walk from the kitchenette to the table. I lead him to his room and shut the door behind us. He runs to his bed, putting his pillow over his head.

“It will be alright, kitten,” I say, rubbing his back.

“What’s that noise?”

“Something is attacking Watford.”

He started to develop magic a few months ago. The change was easy to detect; his skin started to become more and more like a furnace, the air around smelt of burnt butter, and he sometimes spoke so forcefully that magic came out. I told him that his magic is a commodity and that in his future, he might be regarded as special. I think he can put two and two together… maybe that’s why he’s skittish.

“They aren’t going to hurt you,” I reassure him.

He moves his head out from underneath his pillow. I get up and grab his favorite stuffy, the white rabbit, and place it next to him.

“Shouldn’t you go and help?” He asks, turning around and sitting up to look me in the eye. He grabs his stuffy, his grip on the animal is strong.

“It’s my duty to protect you over anything else. You are my son. I can’t leave you here alone,” I state.

“But people could be getting hurt,” he replies. He has a smirk on his face that he must’ve picked up from Fiona. The little know-it-all.

“Yes, but…” I don’t have an argument. “I can’t bring you with me and you can’t stay here alone. It is too dangerous. We don’t know what is attacking Watford or why.” I take a sigh. “We will stay here until the alarms stop blaring.” My voice is stern.

Simon has a pout on his face. I ruffle his blond, curly hair, causing him to giggle. I press a kiss to his forehead.

“And once the alarms stop, we will get back to work.”

Simon groans, lying down on his pillow. “Not work,” he whines.

“You can help feed the goats if you practice your writing.”

He perks up at that. There is an urgent knock at the front door. I glance at Simon.

“I’m going to get that. Do not come out of this room unless I tell you to. Do you understand me?”

Simon nods. I exit his room and stalk my way to the front door. I try and sneak a peek out the window to see who it is, but I’m at the wrong angle. The knocking has not stopped; it’s almost in time with the alarms.

When I get to the front door, I ask, “Who is it?”

“It’s Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

I immediately open the door, not even taking into account that it could’ve been a lie. Basil stands there, looking paler than he did this morning. He looks grey. There are tears falling in droves down his cheeks.

He runs to me, hugging my leg. I close the door quickly, then bend down to his height. I bring him into my arms. “What’s wrong, little ‘un? I thought you were supposed to be in the nursery today.”

“Mama got attacked…” He cries.

“In the nursery?”

“She… she…”

“Who attacked her?”

“Vampires,” he says quietly. “They attacked me too.”

He turns his neck and I see two large bite marks there. I try not to spiral and think of Nicky. I try not to imagine that the same thing that happened to him could happen to this sweet boy in front of me.

“She used a spell and killed them all, but…” He doesn’t have to finish.

I stand there in shock, unknowing of what to do or where to go from here. I hear familiar footsteps puttering from the direction of Simon’s room.

“Simon, what did I tell you?” I ask him. I look over to his direction.

He is standing there with his hands interlocking around his waist innocently.

“I heard crying…”

“Simon—” I start. My voice is very authoritarian. “—I understand you want to help and know what is happening, but I need you to go to your room right now.”

“What about my worksheet?”

“Your worksheet can wait.”

The footsteps retreat and I focus on Basil. I detach myself and grab the phone from the wall. I first call Watford security and alert them of the situation, omitting that Basil got bitten but told them he was in my care. Then I call Malcolm. I had never heard him cry before. He told me he’d be over right away and that he’d get in touch with Fiona.

When I look back to where I left Basil, he isn’t there. I panic for a minute before going to check Simon’s room. Basil is sitting on Simon’s bed. Simon is pressing his rabbit’s face onto Basil’s as if the stuffed animal is kissing him.

“Did you ask for Basil’s permission to be allowed to kiss him?” I ask.

Simon shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Basil replies, and I decide to drop it.

“Basil, I called your father. He’ll be coming soon,” I say as I walk over to the bed and sit between the two boys.

Right then, the alarms stop blaring. There is no voice of Natasha Grimm-Pitch or the never-ending, life-threatening sound of the panic alarm. There is stark silence.

“Attention: Natasha Grimm-Pitch has been found dead in the nursery. The threat has been eradicated.” The voice is monotone and unnerving.

“Eradicated?” Simon asks. His head tilts to the side in confusion, his voice stumbles over the letters.

“It means the threat went away,” Basil says.

Basil climbs into my lap and rests his forehead on my shoulder. I place my arms around him, rubbing his back. I look over to Simon; his mouth is in a pout and his arms are crossed.

“Are you jealous, kitten?”

He shakes his head, but I know he feels the opposite.

“There is enough room for you too.” I open my arms wider and he nestles in. “My boys,” I kiss both of their heads, “everything will work out, yeah?”

Basil starts crying. I continue to rub his back, trying to hold my own tears back.

“Ebb, am I a monster now?” Basil asks in a small voice. His eyes are red when he looks up at me.

I trace the fresh bite marks on his neck. Simon looks at them in curiosity.

“Never. You’ll never be a monster. A vampire, yes. But a monster, no.”

Finally, a tear slip. Basil beams at me. I take my fingers away from the bite marks.

“Vampire? Is that what attacked Watford? Why is Baz now one?”

“Later, Simon, later,” I say, ruffling his hair. 

“Mum, are you okay?” He asks.

I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes. I fixate on one of the photos on Simon’s wall of Basil, Fiona, Simon, and me at bonfire night last November. The Grimm-Pitches always host a huge celebration. In the picture, we are standing in front of the huge bonfire. I am holding Simon’s hand and Fiona is holding Baz’s. We each have sparklers in our other hand. Basil and Simon both have giant smiles on their faces. That was only a couple of days before Fiona left for her big mission in Beijing. Merlin, I miss her.

Simon is climbing off my lap when I tune back in. “Simon, where are you going?”

“Potty,” he says, scurrying off.

I sigh, “Okay.” I grab Simon’s rabbit. “Basil, do you want to hold this? Would that calm you?” He shakes his head.

“I’m scared.”

“I can imagine,” I say. “I can’t say things will be easy for you, but you have so many people that love you.”

“Does Simon love me?” He asks, grabbing the rabbit that is still in my hand.

“Of course, he does.”

He stares at the rabbit for a few moments, nodding.

“Do you love him?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Do you love my auntie?” He asks me, dropping the rabbit on the bed.

I smile, “yes I do.”

“Good.”

Simon enters the room again, sitting beside us.

“When will my father arrive?” Basil asks.

“Soon.”

Malcolm arrives in due time. I’ve never seen Malcolm so out of states; his hair is not greased back, his tie isn’t tied properly, and his eyes dart from corner to corner. He clears his throat and puts on his usual stoic face.

“Nice to see you, Ebb. Where is Tyrannus?” He asks.

“Um, well, I need to tell you something before you see him.” I close the door behind Malcolm and led him to the sofa.

He sits down gingerly, one leg crossing over the other. His chin is raised high and his long arms are crossed around his torso.

“But first, are you doing alright? Have you… seen the body?”

“I stopped there before coming here. Big mess it is. Now what about Tyrannus?” His tone is snippy, but it lacks normal bite. I’m sure he would be barking orders if his wife hadn’t died.

“Well Basil came to me—”

He rolls his eyes when I call him Basil. I’ve heard him pester Fiona about it a million times. _“Basil is not his name, Fiona. Neither is Baz.”_ He hates the nickname Baz with a burning passion. He humphs whenever Simon or Fiona calls him that.

“--after… what happened in the nursery and… in the midst of the attack, he got bitten.”

“Bitten,” Malcolm says exasperated. His façade slips; his mouth turning into a frown. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t have a vampire for a son,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I… what am I going to do? I don’t know how to raise a child on my own, especially a…” He doesn’t say the word. I can see the conflict going on in his mind, the cogs to a machine whirling.

“You treat his as you always have,” I reply. “He is still your son. If you teach him right from wrong, he’ll be fine.” I lower my voice for the next part, “Do you think I knew what I was doing when you gave me Simon. I’m raising the fucking Chosen One here, by myself. I think you can handle getting some blood bags from a butcher or teaching your son to hunt. Plus, you have Fiona and a nanny at your disposal.”

“Where is my boy?” Malcolm says, retreating back to his shell. He stands, brushing off his suit pants.

“I’ll get him,” I say.

I go into Simon’s room where Simon and Basil are huddled over Simon’s desk, working on the worksheet I once set out for him.

“Basil, your father is here. I told him about the… issue.”

Basil gets up from his chair and walks with me to the living room. He runs to his father but stops short of hugging him. Malcom bends down to be eye level with Basil and holds his arms out for Basil to fall into.

I watch the moment for a few seconds. I’m always amazed at how similar they look: the same hair color and thickness, the same stoic facial expressions, the raise of the eyebrow. I can only hope that as Basil grows, he is more in tune with his emotions than his father.

I hear Simon’s footsteps as he walks out of his room. I turn to see him with his worksheet in his hand. “I finished it, Mum.”

“Good job, Simon,” I say, taking the worksheet from him.

“Hello Mr. Grimm,” Simon says to Malcom.

Malcom releases Basil and nods at Simon. He stands back up, brushing himself off before asking, “Where is your bathroom?”

“Down the hall.”

“Thank you.”

“Will Fiona be coming?” I ask as he passes me.

“Yes, she’ll be here any moment. The news has probably reached her by now.”

I nod and let Malcom use the bathroom. Simon has made his way to the couch and Basil sits next to him. I look over Simon’s worksheet, wondering how much Basil did for him.

There is a whoosh of magic that flows through the air making the air smell of fire and rum. I would know the smell of that magic anywhere. It seems like Basil also recognizes the change of scent in the air and a small smile erupts on his face.

Fiona materializes in the room, looking like she just took a trip to hell and back. Her usual “I’m a badass woman in her thirties” makeup isn’t even on her face, she is still in her lounge clothes, and she doesn’t seem capable of consoling people right now. Unlike Malcolm, she doesn’t hide her emotions. She freely cries when she sees Basil. I don’t have time to corner her and tell her about Basil’s vampirism. I can tell from her look that she automatically realizes there is something different in her favorite nephew. He runs up to her and she twirls him around in her arms.

“You are a brave little boy,” I hear her say. Her eyes scan Basil’s body, probably searching for signs of trauma. Her whole face shifts in horror as she sees the two red dots on Basil’s neck as if her suspicions are answered.

Malcolm comes into the room, barely nodding at Fiona. His eyes are puffy and red. He sits down next to Simon on the sofa, putting his head in his hands.

“Did you get bitten by a vampire?” She asks Basil.

He nods slowly.

“Basil, Simon, cover your ears.”

Simon and Basil both comply.

“Fucking hell, what are we supposed to do?”

I place a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looks at me and I look at her. We both look to Malcolm. I sigh.

“We do what’s right.”

\--

Fiona

“—well, I don’t want him,” Malcolm says to me a month after the funeral. I’ve been taking care of Baz for weeks and I’m getting sick and tired of Malcolm not stepping up.

“He is your son,” I fight back. I never liked Malcolm, I never thought he was right for Tasha. But they made a wonderful son and Merlin I want to see that son happy.

“He is a vampire, Fiona!”

“So…”

“You hunt vampires. Shouldn’t you be on my side?” There is a whine to Malcolm’s voice that I detest.

“Do you want me to kill your son? Cause it sure sounds like you want me to kill your son.”

Malcolm huffs, delicately sitting on a chaise lounge in the library. He sits with the questions like he actually considering such a thing.

“The crazy blood lust will be over soon. He is just adjusting to things. I will teach him the proper way as soon as he isn’t drinking blood every meal. I’ve learned how vampires hunt. But I’m not going to raise him for you, Malcolm. He needs you right now.”

“But you’ll raise him so much better.”

“In my shitty London apartment, I think not.”

“We can give him to Ebb.”

“We are not giving him to Ebb. You need to take responsibility. You were the one who wanted a son in the first place. Now you go and raise him like the father you said you wanted to be.”

“I dislike you,” he says in a voice that is both joking and harsh truth.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Can you take weekends?”

“For fuck’s sake, I need time to grieve,” I say, running my fingers through my hair.

“Me too.”

Malcolm forces me to take Baz with me. He doesn’t tell me when I should bring him back. Baz looks happy to go with me. I think being in that big manor all alone is daunting especially while going through a hard time. I think he likes me enough to want to spend time with me.

The thought of going back to my apartment haunts me. I ponder over where to take him before deciding to go to Ebb’s. She’s been great with my sudden burst of emotions. I don’t like to crumble for anyone, but Ebb never really seems to mind. She sometimes cries along with me, her for Nicky and me for Tasha. It’s nice.

Baz seems to quickly realize where we are going. Within the past couple days, I’ve seen him start to smile more. He can’t control his fangs, so they always peek out. I look at him in the rearview mirror. He’s sipping a water bottle full of warm blood.

“Fiona,” he says. He isn’t used to the feeling of fangs in his mouth, especially talking with them. His speech has become slower now, more deliberate in the words he chooses. “why am I with you and not with my father?”

I try and think, but David Bowie’s voice drowns out my thoughts. How can I explain this to him? How do I make it seem like this isn’t about his father not wanting him?

“Your father is having a hard time without your mother.”

I watch Baz nod.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he does every day. He has become increasingly worried and clingy to me and Malcolm.

Ebb told me that he told her that he’s scared that we are going to get attacked and die. Simon, the little Chosen One he is, stated that if anything were to harm anyone close to Baz, they would have to get through him first.

“Better than yesterday,” I reply as I always do. Truth is that every day runs together. The pain of losing my sister is ever-present. With the search for a new Mage, tensions are at an all-time high. But how do I tell that to the kid? “How are you doing, kiddo?”

“Alright,” he responds curtly. He talks less than Simon does. I miss hearing Baz’s rants about childish curiosities.

I look again in the mirror and for a minute, the little boy in the back is no longer little. I imagine him as a teenager on a ride to Watford. The same stoic face that Malcolm has always adorned is present; the slightly pouted lip, the chin raised high, and the arrogant look in the eye. He’s wearing a button down and slacks. I almost break down there, seeing a picture of a broken boy raised to be just like his father. When the teenager smiles, the fangs are controlled. Everything about him is polished, pristine, and perfectly tailored to be the splitting image of Malcolm. I search for a sign of happiness, but I find none. I search for a sign of love, but his heart is hollow. I search for a sign that Natasha raised him, but there is no trace of her except in the color of the eyes. The skin is not her color, the hair does not flow like hers does, and the clothes are definitely not of her choosing. I don’t see myself in him either. I search for myself or Ebb or Simon, but all there I can find is corporate Malcolm. A boy forced to grow up too fast.

“Fiona!”

I swerve away from the car I almost hit. My heart is racing. I glance quickly at Basil, no longer the teenager.

“Sorry Baz. Little preoccupied.”

When we arrive at Ebb’s cottage, Simon is playing footie by himself outside. He smiles at us as we exit the car and runs to Baz to give him a hug.

“Want to play footie?” He asks Baz excitingly.

Baz enthusiastically nods and I enter the cottage. Ebb is sitting at the table. She jumps when I enter.

“Didn’t tell me you were coming,” she says.

“Hello to you too,” I say, sitting on the sofa.

She comes and sits next to me, kissing the top of my head.

“Nice to see you, nonetheless. How was your talk with Malcolm?”

I roll my eyes and groan. f“Not well.”

“At least you can spend more time with Basil.”

I nod, trying to see the upside to the situation. I look over at Ebb, taking in her choppy blonde bangs and raggedy Watford jumper. Her blue eyes shine just like Simon’s. Ebb puts her arm around my shoulders and brings me close to her. I hide my face in her neck, inhaling a faint smell of goat. The smell of her warm, thick magic overpowers it; a woodsy odor mixed with chamomile tea.

Ebb starts playing with my hair. I almost moan at the contact. Just the thought of being touched tenderly like this sends me into a fit. Ebb always knows how to make a person feel comfortable.

“I’m just angry. Malcolm won’t give me any time. The minute we all processed the news, it’s like I became Baz’s caregiver, but I need time to grieve. He hasn’t given me a moment to process this by myself. I get the evenings sure, but I just wish I had a week to…”

“Think about things?”

“Yeah.”

“I could always take Baz off your hands for a couple days,” she says as though it’s nothing.

I really wish for a getaway with her where we can talk and relax, maybe spend some time at the beach. I know Ebb would hate to be away from Watford, especially at the start of term. I can almost hear her say to me, _“Who would take care of the goats? Who would take care of Simon?”_ Sometimes I worry that she loves Simon and the goats so much that she has no love left in her heart. I don’t really care about those details. I just want a romantic getaway for a while.

“But I know I would just end up here and that ruins the purpose.”

“So, you don’t want to be alone?” Ebb asks.

“No, I want to be with you. I just wish I didn’t have this extra stress. I kind of miss the old days, you know, where we could go to the cinema on the weekend and cry at sappy romance movies.”

“I miss it too,” Ebb confesses. Her hand has stopped moving in my hair.

“Do you ever think of a world where you didn’t have Simon?”

“Yes, but I don’t ever wish to be in it. Is raising him a handful? Yes. But he is my son and I love him so much.” Her voice starts to become weepy. “I can’t imagine what Basil must be going through. If Simon had to live without me, I don’t know what I would do.”

Hearing Ebb cry makes me start to cry. The splitting image of teenage Baz, filled with his father and none of his mother, spooks me. It reinvigorates me to make sure he does not turn out like that. A brief flash of Natasha’s dead body reminds me that I must do this for her, no matter how hard it is.

“I love you,” Ebb says, her voice still a little weepy.

“I love you too, you big softie.”

She wipes my eyes and kisses me softly on the lips.

“Do you ever think it’s weird how we don’t live together?” She asks.

I let myself glance at the little cottage. I remember coming here for the first time. Ebb was so happy to be offered a job at her favorite place in the world. She said she never wanted to leave a place so full of magic. There are tons of pictures stuck to the walls by means of cellar tape, little goat figures stack the shelfs on the walls. It’s all so her. I don’t know where I would fit in. My framed Bowie posters would clash next to the mismatch of photos. Where would I store my records? Everything has it’s crowded little place here. I don’t want to live in London my whole life, but here isn’t for me either.

“Well, we are two completely different people, love.”

“Two completely different people who have been in a relationship for almost ten years.” 

Ebb and I fight over this issue. A lot of our relationship was never official. We kissed and went out since we were teenagers. We would hide away in our room, kissing until the sun came up and then I would trot by Nicky’s side. Ebb hated me for it. I hated myself for it. In my book, we officially got together five years ago. But to Ebb, although we still would see other people, our relationship has lasted much longer.

“I’m barely home anyways.”

“You are going to go back to vampire hunting?” There is a tone of concern in her voice.

“At some point…”

“So, you should definitely come live here. You don’t have to pay rent in London, and I get to spend time with you before you eventually have to go back to Beijing or Tokyo or Omaha, Nebraska or wherever you end up next.”

“Ebb… not right now.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.” Ebb starts to play with my hair again. “Did you hear who might become Mage?”

I shake my head.

“Davy Llellewyn.”

“Simon’s father?”

“The very one.”

“Small fucking world.” 

Ebb laughs. It’s always a wonder to hear her laugh. It’s tinny and sweet just like the rest of her and yet when she breaks out into fits, it turns full and brash. When she laughs, her eyes crinkle at the sides and her whole face laughs up. Ebb often shows her emotions, most of the time by crying, that a laugh coming out of her is surprising. I sometimes have to remind myself that Ebb is not a sad person, just an over emotional one. 

I turn my head to watch the boys outside. I love watching them play together.

“Simon wouldn’t mind you living with us. He loves you like another mum.”

“What did I say Ebb?”

“To drop it.”

I kiss her lips.

“Wait a little bit okay? I’m just trying to get my bearings.”

“But I can help.”

“You already are.”

Although I don’t officially move in, I spend longer and longer amounts of time at Ebb’s. When I return home, I find it hard to sleep alone.

Baz is an easy to manage kid on his own, but it’s still nice to have help. Malcolm still hasn’t contacted me about a schedule for taking care of Baz. I don’t think Baz misses the Manor as much as he misses his father.

Thankfully, his blood consumption is down to only one bag a day, sometimes one every other day. I taught him how to catch some basic wildlife using a mix of magic and reflexes. Ebb had scolded me about teaching him to kill nature, but I told her that blood bags might not always be accessible and at least I’m not teaching me to kill humans. I don’t want the majority of the Coven to find out.

I’m actually thinking of completely moving out when my lease is up. My relationship with Ebb has only gotten stronger since Tasha’s death, however I am unable to leave my apartment. I don’t want to rely on Ebb like I do, so I stop going to Watford. Baz asks me about seeing Simon and I tell him no. Ebb calls me and I don’t answer.

Ebb

Not long after Fiona broke all communication between us, there is a knock on my door. The Coven had just announced the new Mage. I had met him days prior at a staff meeting, but I didn’t expect for him to show up at my door. Simon’s outside playing with the goats.

The Mage stands tall; he has a few inches on me. His wispy mustache puts me severely on edge. His green suit makes me want to punch him. But I put on my “I’m just an innocent goatherd” face and hope he doesn’t see through it.

“Where is he?” He asks flat out. There is no semblance of an introduction or a kind greeting. I hoped this conversation would be about Watford and not about Simon.

“I don’t know who you are talking about,” I lie.

He pushes past me into my cottage. He scans the shelf of goat figurines suspiciously. His eyes filter to the wall where there is a recent picture of Simon and me taken at the most recent Watford welcome back picnic. It was the first year I had taken him to the picnic and he unapologetically loved the attention that he got.

“The Chosen One,” he replies.

“Can’t remember his actual name?” I ask.

The Mage scoffs. “Where is Simon?” He turns away from the picture and comes directly into my space. I desperately want to cast a **Bugger off,** but I don’t.

“Why do you want to know?”

“He is my son,” he responds.

I grip my staff tightly, raising it between him and me.

“You gave him up. The Coven put him under my care.”

“Well tell the Coven that he is now under my care. He is my son.”

I push him back with my end of my staff. He stumbles a bit as he inches back.

“That’s not how this works. I am much more powerful than you. If I hear that you try to accost him, you will have a big storm coming.”

“You think I’m scared of a little goatherd?” His voice is teasing like a little kid. It reminds me of the mean boys I encountered during my Watford days; the ones who didn’t believe a woman mage could be powerful.

I place my staff back on the ground. “You should be.” I give him my stank eye. Fiona once said that my glare could kill. I wouldn’t even need to cast anything.

“ **Bugger Off**.” He flies back a couple feet. I hope Simon doesn’t hear the impact. “ **True colors,** ” I cast revealing his burning red aura. “Now I’m really not going to let you get near Simon. You are going to hurt him.”

“I’m only going to show him how to use his magic properly,” he says with a trembling voice.

I smirk. “He already knows how to use his magic. I don’t want to have to involve magic, so I ask you kindly to exit my home.”

“Fuck you,” he says.

The Mage brushes himself off and leaves the cottage. I cast a protection spell on the cottage. When Simon returns from grazing with the goats, I sandwich a protection spell between two cleaning ones.

I like the idea that Watford is for everyone, but Merlin do I hate that man.

“Who was that?”

“No one, Simon. No one.”

\--

Simon’s a proper boy now. He starts Watford today. He’s short in stature but his magic takes up the space. He’s good at controlling it. When he casts, it fills the room with the smell of cinnamon buns and bacon.

Simon walks in from feeding goats, wiping his hands on the cover of his dungarees. I’m in the middle of cleaning the counters. There is soft music coming from a radio. I ruffle the mop of curly hair on his head as he walks past. I feel tears prickling in my eyes.

“No, mum, don’t cry. I’ll only be in Mummer’s House. I’m still going to come feed the goats every single day and I’ll see you in care for magical creatures.”

I wish his reassurance worked. I wish I could be happy for him. But I worry. The Mage hasn’t come back to the house, but Simon will be left to his own devices. I still cast protection spells on him, but I won’t be able to cast them as frequently once he leaves.

I’m worried that people like the Mage will try and get him for his magic. I’m worried that all my training with him will go down the drain the second he gets placed in a new environment.

Simon rubs my arm. “It’s not like I’m going off to America.”

“I know.” I kiss the top of his head.

“You can pop by my room anytime.”

I smile at him. He smiles back.

“I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you too. To the moon and back.” He reaches up to kiss me on the cheek before going to his room.

The picnic starts in the late afternoon. We are both going to show up together. Simon’s made an effort to look nice tonight, a rare occurrence from him. He’s brushed out his hair and put on a nice pair of jeans and a collared shirt. I try and dress nicely too. Simon smiles at me when I emerge from my room in a sundress.

“You look nice,” he says, standing up to see me better.

I look in the mirror that we hung in the living room. The pastel yellow and white gingham dress is one of my only ones I own. I bought it when I was in my mid-twenties. It still looks great on me. I grab my staff and open the front door, scared but ready to embrace the unknown.

**Simon**

I don’t know many people my age. I used to have a friend. I don’t know what happened to him. Mum has taught me a lot of things, but how to make friends is not one of them. I don’t think Mum has friends. No one ever comes around. I don’t think she’s lonely though. I think she likes basking in the quiet nature of our home.

I’m immediately overwhelmed by the amount of people. I’ve been to the picnic so many times, but this is the first year when I have to seek out making friends. I can’t just grab some food and sit away from everyone with my mum. No, now the Great Lawn is a battle zone like that scene from Mean Girls in the cafeteria and I am Cady Heron, completely in over my head.

Mum is talking with some other professors. Miss Possibelf waves gently at me when she catches my eye. I wave back. I venture over to the food table, stacking my plate with all my favorites: scones, Victoria sandwiches, sausage rolls, and pork pies.

While trying to find a place to settle down (that’s not next to my mum), someone bumps into me, almost making me drop my plate to the ground.

“Oops I’m so sorry,” a feminine voice rings out.

I regain my balance and look at the girl. I’m terrified, absolutely terrified. She has this giant shit eating grin on her face.

“Penelope Bunce, first year!” She says, sticking out her hand.

I quickly take it, too scared that I would come off as rude.

“Simon Snow Petty. I’m a first year too.” 

“We are going to be good friends, Simon. I feel it in my bones. Want to sit together?”

I nod, too scared to say no.

Penny turns out to be a great conversationalist. By that I mean she does the talking while I eat. She’s talking about the classes she’s most excited for and her family.

When I finish eating, I quickly mention, “My mum is a teacher here. I’ve lived here my whole life.”

Penny seems captivated. “That’s so cool! I wish I could live here all the time.”

“I’ll take you to my house one day.”

I spot Mum now chatting with the Minotaur. Whenever we came to the picnic together, she always made me her focus, not her coworkers. It’s nice to see her chatting with adults and not just me. 

I anxiously await the Crucible ceremony. As the sun sets, anticipation starts to mingle with my magic. It feels like it could shoot out of me at any given moment. I look to my left and Penny looks excited too. She probably knows what happens when the sun sets due to her brother going through it.

“All first years report to the courtyard,” the voice of the Mage says over the microphone in his overly nasal voice. His Welsh accent does not mix well with it.

Penny and I walk side by side to the courtyard. I barely listen to the opening remarks, having heard them year after year. I look behind me. Mum is standing on the Great Lawn. She waves and gives me a thumbs up.

The magic of the Crucible is not much different from my own when I’m not focused on controlling it. It’s all encompassing and foreign in my blood. I want to reject it and get out of me as soon as possible. It’s weirdly cold and makes me shiver as I follow its lead like a dog.

I keep my eyes on my feet until they stop short in their tracks. I look up to see my future roommate.

“Baz?” I ask. I don’t know why I do; the answer has to be yes.

Baz nods. I’m shocked. My childhood best friend is standing right in front of me. I know he was real, but some part of me always assumed he was an imaginary friend made from magic that manifested itself. For years, I thought that maybe he was stricken from the book so I couldn’t see him. But here he is. His hair is no longer in a bowl; it flows down to his chin. His skin is the sickly grey that I remember from childhood, his eyes are still piercing gray too.

I don’t know what to do. I know that I’m supposed to shake his hand, but I want to hug him. I want to tell him how much a part of me has missed him. That’s weird, right?

His hard eyes soften. He loses his composure for a minute before sticking out his hand. I take it. His skin is cold, colder than the coarse magic of the Crucible.

“It’s nice to see you,” I say, worried that he doesn’t remember me at all.

Baz nods, but doesn’t say anything. I wonder if he doesn’t talk, but magicians are fueled by their words.

“Are you going to our room now?”

Baz nods again.

“I need to get my trunk from my house and then I’ll be up. Would you like to come with me?”

Baz nods once more. I lead the way to the farm checking every few seconds that Baz is in tow.

“How have you been all these years?”

Baz shrugs, such a conversationalist.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, stopping at the front door of the cottage.

“I…” He starts.

I open the door. Mum is sitting on the sofa. I kiss her cheek as I walk past. I can hear loud exclaims from Mum when she sees him as I get my trunk from my bedroom. Before leaving my room, I look at the faded picture on my wall from when I was a child. Baz looked healthier then. I look to Fiona’s face and remember that she hurt my mother. Anger rises to the surface, but I push it down.

I put on a smile as I exit the room. Mum is gushing over how big Baz is and has started to ask him invasive questions about his vampirism. I interrupt her by giving her a hug and hauling Baz’s and my ass out of there.

“Sorry about that,” I say, readjusting my grip on my trunk.

“It’s alright.”

“I hope this isn’t weird, but I’ve missed you these past years,” I say. “I’ve had no friends to grow up with.”

“Me either,” Baz says.

“I wanted to keep in touch, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t realize what was happening until--”

“It was too late,” Baz finishes.

“Yeah.”

“This is hard for me,” Baz admits as we pass the White Chapel.

The air is cool to my face. The wind swoops up Baz’s hair making it flow behind him.

“What is?”

“Being with you… It reminds me of a very hard time in my life.” He sounds like an adult. He’s talking as if he’s forty not eleven. “My mother died, and you were there. During my blood lust, you were there. And then my aunt ripped you away from me all because she was scared of her feelings.”

“These past few years have been hard for me. I didn’t have anyone my age to play with except for the occasional Watford student.”

“Our guardians really screwed us over, huh?” Baz jokes.

“Do you live with Fiona?”

“Most of the time. My father has remarried now.”

“Evil step-mum?”

“No… I have a sibling now too. I love her. My father, not so much.”

“I’ve always wanted a sibling,” I say on the offhand.

I stand in front of Mummer’s House. I’ve never been inside. The old tower like building stands tall. I open the door. I’m immediately assaulted with loud teenage boys screaming in the common room. It looks like some of the older boys have snuck in some alcohol. One of the older boys comes up to us. He looks a little less hammered and more put together than the others.

“What room are you in?”

“Uh…” I scramble for the slip of paper I was given.

“61,” Baz says coolly.

“Gotta use the tower entrance, mate. Go through the common room and all the way up that staircase.”

Baz and I follow the instructions. I’m out of breath when I finish climbing the stairs. It seems as though the sudden cardio has not affected Baz in the slightest. He walks right into the room and places his trunk on the far bed.

“This is weird, innit?” I ask. “Us being back together like a twist of fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

I sit gingerly on my bed, my trunk placed at my feet. From the window, I see a great view of the grounds. Each place on the campus holds a memory to me. This room will serve brand new ones.

“Oh… My mum always says that fate works in weird ways,” I say.

The room feels nothing like my room back at the cottage. There is no warmth here. Even though my mother is five minutes away, I miss her dearly.

I gasp. Baz glances at me unimpressed as he hangs a shirt up. “Maybe this is a sign!”

“For what?”

“To get your aunt and my mum back together.”

Baz chuckles.

“What?”

“It’s just… isn’t it a little late now. It’s been five years since they last saw each other.”

“Untrue. My mum went to London two years ago to see your aunt. I remember because I was left in the cottage with a niminy-piminy eighth year who drank my mum’s wine and then complained because it wasn’t posh enough.”

“My aunt was in America two years ago.”

I sit there appalled by this information. Sure, Mum was exponentially sadder after returning from that trip. But I was 9 and she was always crying so I didn’t think much of it then.

“Merlin…” I speak.

“Guess we should try and get them together again. Fiona never stops talking about her years with Ebb. Maybe it isn’t too late.”

I smile at Baz. The Crucible not only gave me my best friend back, but it also gave me a partner in crime.

**\--**

**Ebb**

I don’t get many visitors on the weekends. Simon is swamped in eighth year coursework but has still come over to feed the goats. I expect it to be Penny or Basil looking for Simon.

“What did I tell you about coming back here?” I ask as the Mage pushes his way into my home.

“You can’t protect him forever, Ebb,” he says. I hate that he acts all high and mighty.

“You cannot just barge into my home.”

“Do you have any biscuits?” He asks, starting to go through my cupboards.

I almost close one on his hand. “Why are you here?” I ask.

“To see my son.”

“He is not your son.”

“I need him to go on a mission with me.”

“Like hell he will. He is not your son.”

“He has my DNA.”

“You didn’t raise him. You gave him up. Thankfully, the Coven found him and gave him to me, so he didn’t have to be raised by Normals.”

“Like raising him was that hard,” he condescends.

“It was hard, thank you very much. Try looking after a kid for a day and come back to me.”

He scoffs. “I have a job to do. I don’t have time to raise a child.”

“Maybe if you didn’t kill Lucy you could’ve had a son.”

He gives me a death glare. For the second time in my life and probably not the last he steps into my personal space. He grabs my wrist and pushes me against the counter, my head hits the kitchen cabinets. His hand grabs my other wrist, pining both of them above my head. My staff clatters to the ground. I am powerless.

“I didn’t kill her,” he says.

“Then why can’t they find her body.” When Fiona and I were together we used the Pitch libraries and Natasha’s old books to find out dirt about Davy. “She’s not in California, Davy.”

“You better watch your mouth.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll kill you.”

I think for a minute what would happen to Simon. The Mage would have to care for him. This sick son of a bitch would have care over my son.

“You wouldn’t,” I say, knowing full well he would kill me. He killed Natasha. That mystery wasn’t too hard to put together.

“I surely would, sweetheart,” he whispers sickly in my ear. “Now give me my son.”

“No.”

His grip on my wrist tightens. He forces my head to bang against the cupboards again. Pain shoots through my head. The Mage grabs a plate from the sink and throws it to the floor causing tens of glass fragments to scatter.

“Like to rethink that?”

“I won’t let my son go on a death mission.”

“It’s not a death mission just some father-son bonding time.”

“To do what? Kill an innocent species? Go on a crusade? I doubt you’ll be taking him to Covent Garden.”

“He deserves some extra practice with his magic.” He’s stepped even closer. Our bodies are flush with each other. I could probably kick him, but he’s too alert. “Does he know about his sword? Does he even know he’s the Mage’s Heir?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to get hurt,” I say.

The grip on wrists is probably leaving a bruise.

“Too late,” I hear Simon say. I can’t see him. The Mage is so close in my space that my peripheral vision is blocked.

“What is going on here?” Simon asks at the same time as I ask him, “How much did you hear?”

The Mage finally releases my wrists. I rub them. He kisses my lips to probably sell that we were snogging. He wishes he could get a piece of this. With my hands free, I grab his shoulder and push him off me. Grabbing my staff, I cast “ **Head Over Heels”** causing the Mage to trip.

I can see Simon now. He stares in horror at the Mage lying on our kitchen floor. “He isn’t dead,” I say a few second too quick.

“What the fuck is going on?” Simon asks exasperated.

“I—” I start.

“Are you fucking the Mage?”

I shake my head. I can’t get a word in before he asks, “Did he say I have a sword?”

“Simon, please—”

“Is the Mage my father?”

“Simon, please sit down we can talk about this.”

Simon, like the sweetheart he is, crouches down by the Mage and helps him up.

“Are you my father?” He asks him.

The Mage smirks. “Yes.”

Simon stares at me in disbelief. “Are you even my real mum?”

“I’ll explain everything, but—”

“Yes or no.”

“No,” I say.

“You lied to me,” he says.

I start to smell his magic coursing through the air. It’s been a long time since he’s had a flair up.

“Please calm down, kitten.”

“Don’t call me that!” He yells.

I’ve never heard him raise his voice. For a minute, fear settles in my soul. I think about what I want my last words to be. If Simon doesn’t kill me now, maybe the Mage finally will.

Simon’s started to glow. Magic is rippling off him, coating the cottage in thick smells of cinnamon buns and bacon.

“Remember your breathing,” I say. “One, two, three, four.”

He doesn’t follow me. I step closer to him, but he draws his wand.

“You were taken from me. She stole you from my home in Wales,” The Mage says to Simon. “Your mother and I were heartbroken. I’ve been looking for you ever since. _She_ wouldn’t let me see you.”

I take another step closer to him. His wand is still pointed. I take another step. I’m finally close enough to place my hand on his shoulder.

“Get away from me,” he says.

“All I wanted was to take you on a mission, but little lady here wouldn’t let me. Are you going to let a woman boss you around?”

“Let’s not be sexist,” Simon says.

“This woman lied to you. Why should you follow her teachings?”

“He’s lying to you, Simon. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t steal you from his home. Do you really think I would do that?”

“I don’t know what you’d do.”

My heart aches. There are tears running down Simon’s face.

“I don’t know who you are,” Simon says.

“Yes, you do. Please, stay Simon,” I plead.

“C’mon, Simon, let’s get out of here,” the Mage says, grabbing Simon’s arm and forcing him away from me.

Simon’s magic is still surrounding him like a fire orb.

“You can’t take him away from me,” I say. “I’m his legal guardian.”

“I’m the Mage, sweetheart. I can do whatever I want. Now what do you say Simon, want to go on a mission with your pap?”

“I would love to.”

Simon gives me a look of hatred when he leaves. I’ve never seen him direct that look at anyone before. I feel faint. I reach out to the counter to steady myself.

I don’t remember going to my room, changing out of my day clothes, and getting into bed. My mind is running a million miles a minute.

I worry that Simon won’t come out of the mission alive or that he’ll come out a killer. What if he never forgives me? What if he won’t ever come back? What if he leaves me in the dust? I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s been my rock for so long. I’ve only ever had one other rock.

I grab my phone from my bedside table and stare at Fiona’s contact. I send her a quick text: _The Mage attacked me and took Simon._

I hope she answers. I miss her dearly. There isn’t a night when I don’t think about her. I’ve always taught Simon about fate. I don’t believe in soulmates, but I do believe that fate means for Fiona and me to be together.

_I’m coming_ , she responds.

Fuck why did I do that?

**Simon**

I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry. I feel my magic slip and I try to gain control, but I’m not focused enough. I need a minute to center myself, but the Mage is pushing me. He’s enabling, saying all this sexist crap about Ebb. He tells me I’m going to miss school next week because we will be departing for a mission now. I need to rest. I need Penny and Baz to make me a “what I know” and “what I don’t know” list.

I try and make one, but my head is cloudy. The smell of my own magic is intoxicating, and the heat makes me want to swim in a frozen lake.

What I Know:

  1. Ebb raised me. She was probably not lying about her love for me.
  2. The Mage is my father
  3. I have a sword… somewhere
  4. Ebb attacked the Mage.
  5. The Mage kissed Ebb
  6. I’m going on a mission with the Mage
  7. The goats were adorable today.
  8. Baz and Penny are probably waiting for me to do work with them.



What I Don’t Know:

  1. Why Ebb attacked the Mage?
  2. The kiss
  3. Where am I going?
  4. Where is my sword?
  5. Where is my real mother?
  6. Who do I trust?



The list making seems to calm me down. My magic has decided to stay within my body now. The Mage takes me to his office and makes me dress in a Mage’s Men uniform. He spells it to fit me. I hate that his magic feels like getting injections all over your body. It smells of sharpie and pine. Two things that definitely should not go together.

I get put in a car and we drive off. He doesn’t seem intent to tell me where we are going so, I watch the scenery go by.

It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive at Pitch Manor. He gets out and I follow.

“Are we here to see Mr. Grimm?” I ask.

“Simon, are you aware we are in the middle of a war?”

I nod, although I thought it was merely political. I glance at the manor, remembering all the time I spent there in my youth.

“Well, the war has gone on too long. I need to you kill the family in this manor.”

“No,” I say immediately. “No, no, no.”

“You’ll need your sword. Place your hand at your waist and recite "In justice. In courage. In defense of the weak. In the face of the mighty. Through magic and wisdom and good."”

“I won’t kill people…I won’t kill anything.”

“I thought you were the Chosen One,” the Mage says.

I look at him. “I am.”

“Then do what you have to do to save your people.”

“But the Grimms are also my people.”

“They don’t like me.”

“So, you want to kill them?”

“It’s the only way to end the war.”

“I’m not killing the Grimms.”

“Oh, right, I should’ve known that you would be soft. I should’ve known that you being raised by a goatherd made you weak. You know I thought you were strong, but you are just a sad excuse for a Chosen One.”

I try not to let the words faze me. Mum always told me I was enough.

“I’m supposed to be the good guy. The good guy doesn’t kill innocent people.”

“The good guy also follows orders.” The Mage steps into my personal space like I saw him doing to Mum in the kitchen. “If you don’t kill the Grimms, I will personally kill everyone you ever loved. You’ll have to watch as I cherry pick your favorite people and slowly kill them. Then I’ll kill you or better yet, I’ll erase your memory of everything except the deaths and place it on you.”

My magic is strong enough that I can think of the words and the sword appears by my side. I’ve never used a sword, but Mum always complimented me on my wand work.

“Oh, you think your little sword will scare me?”

**Baz**

It’s getting late and Simon has not shown up. My leg is anxiously bouncing up and down. Penelope is loudly chewing on some of my crisps in between loud sighs. We finished all our work hours ago because we both work when we are stressed.

Without the distraction of work, the only thing I have to do is worry. I chew at my lip, praying that the door opens, and Simon appears smelling of the farm. I hope that he enters still in his work clothes and tells us that he got preoccupied talking to everyone he passed or decided to help in the kitchens or spend time with his mother. 

Seeing Simon in dungarees will never not make me hot. If Simon never comes back, I’ll have to live knowing I never got the chance to tell him that… or that I never came out to him. Penny was the first person I told, but every time I try to tell Simon, the words don’t come out. I know he’ll be accepting; Simon is in love with everyone he meets. He never speaks wrongly of anyone.

My father threw me out. I haven’t told him that either. I’ve just continually lied about where I’m going for holiday. Sometimes I go to Penny’s, sometimes to Fiona’s. Mordelia misses me, but my father won’t let me back there. I doubt he ever will.

Penelope won’t stop talking. It’s her nervous tic. As soon as she finishes the crisps, she’s pacing the room. She should probably be going back to her dorm by now, but I can’t kick her out. I don’t want to be alone.

“Have you checked with Ebb?” She asks.

I’m angry at myself for not thinking of that. I throw on my blazer and Penelope grabs her cape. It’s freezing outside and I curse myself for not grabbing more layers. Penelope is basically running to Ebb’s. The lights of the cottage are still on when we get there.

Penelope frantically knocks on the door. I almost faint when I see my aunt on the other side.

“Ebb, the gremlins are here.”

Fiona lets us in. Ebb looks a right mess on the sofa. She has a white-knuckle grip on her staff. She’s in her night clothes and her eyes are bloodshot.

“Hello kittens. Would you like some tea?” She asks, standing up to greet us. She reminds me of a nan in this moment, putting all others pleasure before hers. That’s how Simon is too.

“I wouldn’t mind some tea,” Penelope says.

I hit her side. She groans. “Never mind,” she replies.

Ebb sits back down. Fiona sits next to her and drapes her arm around Ebb’s shoulder.

“You are probably wondering where Simon is,” Ebb says.

I sit down in one of the other lounge chairs while Penelope goes to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

“Well, um… the Mage took him on a mission,” she says.

“Why would the Mage care about Simon?” I ask. “Chosen one stuff?”

“Let me guess: The Mage is his father,” Penelope says.

“How did you—” Ebb says in amazement.

“It’s so easy. They look exactly alike,” Penelope retorts.

“Simon’s much handsomer than the Mage,” I reply.

Ebb gives me her patented sad eyes. Even she knows about my unfortunate love affair with Simon. I had asked for her permission last year to ask him out, but I’ve been too afraid of rejection. Simon’s never disclosed his sexuality. I don’t think gender really matters in the equation for him. He just loves love.

“I never told him that the Mage was his father and now he’s angry at me,” Ebb cries out. “Even worse, the Mage told him this bullshit lie about me stealing Simon away from him and he believes it.”

“Simon’s naïve, but he isn’t dumb. I bet he’s run away from the Mage by now.”

Penelope joins us, handing a mug of tea to Ebb. Ebb picks it up and the sleeve of her shirt rides up showing bruising on her wrists.

“What happened?” Penelope asks, pointing to the bruises.

I sometimes (all the time) want to kill Penelope Bunce.

“Um…” Ebb starts.

“The Mage attacked her but she doesn’t want to tell people that because she’s a strong woman,” Fiona says for her.

“Attacked?” Penelope asks alarmed.

“He pushed her up against the counters and kissed her without her consent.”

Ebb whimpers.

“What are you doing here, Fiona?” I ask.

“Ebb texted me,” she responds.

“And you came here? After years of not seeing each other?”

“There is a lot you don’t know, Baz,” Fiona says.

“What the fuck? I—” I stop myself. “Tell me later.”

“You two are free to camp out here for the night,” Ebb says. “Simon’s room is free.”

Weeps fill the room again. Penelope has broken down too, crying in unison with Ebb. I’ve never seen Penelope cry. It’s weird to see 2/3 of the strongest women I know cry. I bring Penelope into my arms and try to soothe her, but I don’t know how. Tears well in my eyes, but I push them back.

We retreat to Simon’s room once Penelope has calmed. I dig through his drawers to find something comfortable for the both of us to wear. Penelope gets a faded Peppa Pig shirt that Simon found in a thrift shop and couldn’t resist buying. It’s so big, she wears it like a dress. She grabs some boxers and wears them like shorts. I find a big Watford Football jumper and a pair of flannel bottoms.

We both sleep in the queen-sized bed. Penelope has put her arms around me. I think for a moment that I’ll be able to sleep.

As I’m drifting off, I feel the ghost of a kiss on my forehead. In the darkness of the room, I see Ebb. “Good night children.”

I don’t understand how Simon could ever be mad at her.

Ebb gets us excused from classes until Simon returns. Both Penelope and I aren’t worried about our grades. We all coop up in Ebb’s cottage, waiting patiently for the door to open or for the phone to ring. I try and help Ebb with the goats but she gets irritated when I feed them wrong. Fiona seemed to know I would be coming by and brought blood bags with her from London. I thank her immensely; glad I don’t have to go to the Catacombs right now.

Penelope and I still go to the dining hall for meals. News must’ve spread quickly that Simon Snow is galivanting off with the Mage. Our peers must’ve realized that this must be serious for the top in their year to be missing classes. Gareth, Rhys, Dev, and Niall all sit with us, pestering for answers to questions that we don’t know how to answer.

It goes on for days but feels like months. Penelope and I debate every night if we should be looking for him. Ebb tells us that this is just an act of rebellion and that he’ll be back soon. I don’t think she believes herself.

It’s a week since he’s left, and I start to crack. It’s Halloween, my favorite holiday. I’ve started to snap at everyone who tries to talk to me.

“Fate is a funny little thing, Basil,” Ebb tells me while sitting on the couch. Fiona’s currently shopping in the city of Watford right now and Penelope is catching up on work. “It brought your aunt back to me. It brought Simon to me. And fate will bring him back.” She talks as if fate is a person.

I imagine fate to look like a girl with curly hair with a bow tying it back. She is wearing a puffy dress and picks apples in her spare time. She loves poetry and dances with the butterflies. But underneath the pretty girl physique is a girl who hides underneath a mushroom, looking for happiness that isn’t found in material things like apples or dresses. She messes with people and guides them through life on a string of magic. It doesn’t feel like mage magic, you can barely feel her magic at all. It lies there, somewhere between your heart and your stomach, pumping like it’s a bodily organ. Like the ride on a back of unicorn, it is unsteady. The girl’s magic tries to throw you for a curve, but you always land on your feet. I know how fate feels, being raised in a world where only material things matter. But I fester quickly at the thought that she has hurt everyone I’ve ever loved.

“I sometimes wonder what my life would be like without Simon. Who would have raised him? Who would have given him love? Would he ever have found happiness?” She sighs. “I used an illegal spell once to see what would’ve happened to him. I didn’t like what fate did to him then.”

I want to press on it. To see what the world could’ve been like if Simon was raised as an orphan.

“It was awful. But he still found his way to me and he still found his way to you and Penny. I died in that world by the hands of the Mage. Simon lost all his magic. I don’t know what fate will do to him here, but I pray that he doesn’t have to go through what he did there. That world ends in flames, I hope this one ends with flowers blooming.”

“Who was I in that world?” My masked way of asking if Simon and I fell in love.

“His worst enemy,” she replies. “His lover,” she continues. “Everything in between.”

“Do you think he could love me here?”

“If that Simon was capable of love, you’ll have no problem here. In case something happens to me, incase fate decides to screw me over, you have every blessing of mine. If I’m not alive to see you two marry, know that I’ll support it. I don’t want to die knowing that Simon was hung up not knowing what I thought about your relationship if it comes to be.”

My heart hangs heavy in my chest. I wish my mother was alive so I could get her support. Ebb puts her hand on my knee as if she knows what I’m thinking about. I look her in the eyes.

“I’m so happy fate brought your family to me,” she says.

“I’m happy it did too.”

“I better feed the goats,” Ebb says, getting up.

I let a few tears slip from my face.

“It’s okay to cry, Basil. Crying is fate’s way to tell you it’s time to heal.” 

I nod, not really processing the words she said. I don’t think I’ve ever properly healed from any of the trauma in my life. I take a moment to reflect, embrace the silence and the distant ticking of a clock, and settle into my seat.

The sound of a door being opened startles me from my meditation. The door whips shut behind the visitor. I almost can’t believe my eyes when I see Simon standing there, covered in a mixture of blood, mud, and what looks to be entrails of a dragon. He’s got a leaves, twigs, and unicorn hair tangled into his mop of curls. He’s got a bloody sword in one hand, his wand in the other. Giant red leathery dragon wings protrude from the back of his torn Mage’s Men uniform. I wonder how he got those. What spell even makes dragon wings?

He’s breathing heavily, still on alert. I’m too shocked to move. His magic is surging through the air. It’s comforting to smell but there is a twinge to it of something sinister. Something is off about his usual smell. Maybe it’s the lack of a shower, but magic isn’t normally affected by that kind of stuff. I’ve never heard of an account where the smell of one’s magic changed. But this is Simon, the boy with magic literally running off him like condensation on a tea kettle. Simon is staring at me, but I’m hyper focused on the large cut that goes from his eyebrow to his chin. There is dried blood on it, and it makes my mouth water. I’m sure it’s going to leave a scar.

Penelope walks into the room. She looks absolutely ridiculous in a pair of Simon’s joggers and another thrifted t-shirt of his. Much more on her a-game, she immediately rushes to the exit of the house towards the farm to get Ebb.

He still hasn’t said a word and neither have I. The Watford alarm bells have starting ringing. We haven’t needed them since the attack of the Watford nursery. The alarm is still my mother’s voice.

Ebb and Penelope reenter the cottage. It’s awkward for a moment as Ebb reaches out to Simon and then draws back.

“The Mage is trying to kill me,” he says, panicked and rushed. “But first he’s going to kill you lot. I don’t have time to explain right now. Please just stay here. I’m going to fix this.”

Just like that, he’s gone again. I would’ve thought he used a spell to disappear if I didn’t hear the door close behind him.

“Did Simon have dragon wings?” Ebb asks.

I nod, trying to block out the sound of my deceased mother. It reminds me of her screams in the nursery. I never got to tell her that I loved her before she died. I can’t let that same mistake happen again.

I stand up and run out of the cottage. The grass, still slick with dew, tickles my bare feet. Simon is only a few steps ahead in a fighting battle stance.

“Simon!” I yell.

He looks back at me.

“Get back in the house,” he yells back.

“I love you,” I say.

Simon falters for a minute before regaining his composure. “I love you too. Now please head back inside.”

I don’t go in until I clock what the threat is. It’s a mash of different monsters (a monster mash one might say); there are goblins, living skeletons, and… vampires. The commanding office is the Mage, forcing them all onto Simon.

I run up to him, deciding he can’t do this alone and start casting spells.

“ **They played the monster mash (The monster mash) It was a graveyard smash** ,” I cast. It knocks a couple of the miscellaneous monsters down and kills some of them.

“What’s the plan here?” I ask.

“Kill everything we can.”

“I say we try and hold off on the vampires until Fiona gets back from her shopping trip. The vampires won’t hurt me and the only way for them to back off is if I bite you or someone like Fiona kills them.”

Simon swipes his sword at some goblins, instantly killing them. His swordsmanship is shotty, but it does the job. Simon is softly singing the monster mash under his breath.

The alarms are even louder out here. No one has come to help us. They probably figure that the Mage has it covered.

From an open window of the cottage, Penny has stuck her head out, yelling spells for me to cast. A speaker is playing Halloween music.

“You get the skeletons, I’ll get the Mage,” Simon shouts to me.

I nod and start casting lyrics from “Spooky Scary Skeletons.” I keep trying to hold off the vampires, but they get closer and closer to Simon.

Once the skeletons are at bay, I run to the window. “Tell Ebb to call Fiona.”

“She already has. Fiona should be here any minute,” Penny says.

Simon has the Mage at sword point. The Mage casts a spell that turns his wand into a sword, and they are currently battling. I wish I could be sword fighting Simon right now. That’s when my brain kicks in that Simon is in actual danger.

“ **Hell hath no fury** ,” the Mage casts, causing his sword to catch fire.

“What should I do?” I ask Penny.

I see Ebb run out to the field casting, “ **The Lady's not for Turning**.” Her voice is powerful, full of intention and clear.

It stuns the Mage for a minute. She casts a reversal spell on his wand and tackles him to the ground. Simon grabs his wand.

“I told you he was a bad man,” Ebb says to Simon.

Simon is still in battle mode and is unfazed by Ebb’s lecturing. The vampires are still approaching him. Thankfully I see Fiona running towards us. She’s the best vampire hunter the World of Mages has, and she is already going to town. A part of me hurts knowing that she is killing those of my kind, but they were ready to hurt people and I don’t condemn murderous vampires.

The security at Watford finally comes into play. There are corpses everywhere. I wonder what Simon did to set the Mage off like this. The Mage is struggling under Ebb’s hold. I kick him, not caring of the consequences.

“What happened here?” The officer asks.

“The Mage sent them.” Simon says, dropping his bloody sword. It dematerializes. Maybe I can convince him to let me fight him at some point.

His wings are still there, flapping like they want to take him away. I desperately want to touch one of them. He looks like Carrie, covered head to toe in blood.

The officer doesn’t take the Mage, but quickly move to handcuff Simon.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“He’s covered in blood, son.”

“I was protecting myself.” Simon says. Not fighting, but not compliant. 

“Tell that to the Coven, kid.”

“So, you aren’t going to arrest the Mage,” Ebb asked. “He took my son and then tried to kill him.”

“I didn’t take you son. He came with my voluntarily.”

“Is this true, kid?”

Simon nods. The man puts another set of handcuffs on the Mage. Fiona is still killing vampires. My mother’s voice still rings with the alarm bells. I watch as Simon is taken away for murder of innocent creatures.

**Simon**

After a long and tedious questioning from Watford security, they slowly realize that I’m not the one to blame. They call the Mage in for questioning and I’m released.

I’ve been so on edge that I can’t get the dragon wings to disappear. I’m worried they’ll become a permanent appendage. I hope not. I almost whacked a security guard in the head.

The corpses have been cleared by the time I get to the cottage. Baz is sitting on the front stoop, his hands covering his eyes. He’s wearing my pajamas. The familiar sight of him causes me to let out a choked sob. I sit beside him. My uncontrollable dragon wing drapes over him.

“Are you okay?” He asks me.

I shake my head.

“Everything hurts and I’m bloody exhausted.”

“Why did the Mage want to kill you?”

“I wouldn’t follow orders.” I take a breath. “The Mage wanted me to kill your family.”

“My family?”

“He said the war has gone on too long. When I said I wouldn’t do it, he started throwing obstacles in my way to teach me to be a soldier or some toxic masculinity shit. I tried to run away but he always found me.”

Baz places a hand on my knee and I immediately flinch away. “Are you still angry at your mum?”

“A little bit. I’m madder at him though.”

“Remember when I said I didn’t believe in fate?” He asks me. I nod. “I’ve been hiding some things from you. I was really scared I would never get to tell you. I don’t mean to make this about me, but I need to speak my truth.”

I think about fate hoping that there was a reason the little fairy caused all this pain.

“I’m gay,” Baz says. “And I love you, but not in just a friend way. Also, my dad kicked me out of the house.”

“When did that happen?”

“The kicking me out? Two summers ago.”

I move my wing away from him. “Fuck. Guess we both have fucked up fathers.”

Baz chuckles dryly.

“When did the love thing happen?”

“Since we reunited.”

“Fuck.”

I look at Baz. His feet are bare. His eyes are red from crying. I grab his hand, enjoying the cold touch. When I look back at his face, his fangs are poking out.

“Sorry. You have a lot of… blood on your face.”

“It’s okay.” I squeeze his hand. “Thanks for telling me.”

I stand up and enter the cottage. Mum is on me in an instance, casting cleaning and healing spells. Not caring who is in the room, I strip off the tattered Mage’s Men uniform. I rejoice of the cold sting of healing magic and the smell of Ebb’s magic. It feels like home.

“I’m sorry Mum.”

“No need to be sorry, kitten,” she says, stepping away from me. “You go wash up. I’ll bring you some food.”

I take a long shower, trying to wash the guilt and the phantom blood off me. Even after my shower I feel unclean. I look at myself in the mirror. The healing spell has made the cut on my face a pinkish scar. There is a matching one that runs down my back. There is a patched up wound right next to my heart from a dragon’s claw. I close my eyes trying to rid myself from the dragon wings, but they stay. I figure that’s a problem for future me.

No one is in my room. I quickly dress, not bothering with a shirt. There is a tray full of food on my desk. I’ve barely eaten anything this past week. My mouth waters just at the sight of it.

Mum comes to check in on me. She sits down gently on my bed.

“An explanation is long overdue. You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to, but I’m going to tell you the truth about your upbringing,” she starts.

I don’t look at her, too focused on eating.

“I… When you were about a week old, you were given up by the Mage and his wife. The Coven had found you on a stoop of a boy’s home. They had gotten intel that you might be powerful, and you fit the criteria for this old prophecy about a Chosen One. Anyway, they came to me and told me I would raise you. I had no idea what I was doing, but I said yes. So, no I am not your birth mother, but I did not steal you from the Mage.”

I finish the food and look at the picture on my desk. It must’ve been right when she got me. I’m just a small bundle in her arms.

“I tried my best to raise you. I didn’t tell you because I know that the Mage is not a good man. He killed your birth mother and he killed Natasha. I couldn’t in my right mind tell you because I know I would lose you and the Mage would hurt you.”

I nod. I walk over to Mum and wrap her in my arms. “You will never lose me.”

“I almost did.”

“Never again.”

“Simon, where did you get the dragon wings?”

“They just appeared when I needed them. Do you like them?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“I don’t like them either, but I’m too tired to try and get rid of them.”

She nods.

“For the record, you are a wonderful mum,” I say. She puts her chin on my shoulder. “Are you and Fiona together again?”

“I think so.”

“For good?”

“I hope.”

“Baz told me that he likes me more than a friend.”

“Finally.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Yes, I knew.”

“I’ve never thought that I was gay.”

“Neither did Fiona. She used to date my brother. Give him a chance.”

I nod, untangling myself from the hug. Basil and Penelope are on the sofa when I walk in. I think about the little fairy of fate, pestering me in my ear to kiss Baz.

“Baz,” I say, walking up to him. I tilt his chin up and kiss him on the lips.

Penny squeals.

The kiss is over quickly. “Thanks for helping me save Watford,” I say coolly.

Baz must’ve fed recently because his cheeks go a light red. He keeps opening his mouth and then closing it. He must be at a loss for words. He reaches out to touch a dragon wing and I have to stop myself from flinching away. Penny makes me show her my sword.

**Baz**

I feel the magic of the little girl. It makes me feel human again. It alights me.

“I want to battle you,” I say to Simon when his sword materializes.

He shakes his head. “I’ve killed enough things this past week. I don’t ever want to go into battle again. I won’t do anything that could risk hurting you.”

Fuck, I’m so in love.

**Ebb**

I watch them from the hallway. My heart fills at the sight of these children. Simon kisses Basil’s cheek, laughing as Basil flushes. I’m forever haunted by the other world. I thank fate for bringing my boy back even with his wings and new scars. He turns around and almost slaps Basil in the face. They all laugh. Baz casts a spell, and it makes a flower appear in his hand. He places it behind Simon’s ear. The wings go away, and Simon loudly exhales, rolling his back.

Simon smiles at me. His smile brighter than the sun. There is some sadness to it. A pain that I could’ve prevented has now taken its place in Simon’s heart. Fate has its funny way of working, but she could never make Simon frown.


End file.
